


Otherworlds

by Fabrisse



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Dalton Academy, Klaine week 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dalton isn't really in Ohio; it's in Faery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Otherworlds

**Author's Note:**

> I have read a lot of Charles de Lint, _War for the Oaks_ by Emma Bull, and have even pulled a few tropes from Pratchett. This is my own work, but I definitely owe these authors a debt, especially de Lint and his handling of totems and dream worlds.
> 
> Inspired by Rachelline Maltese's [Letters from Titan](http://lettersfromtitan.com/) blog.

No world is perfect. True, some seem idyllic when viewed from outside, but perfection won’t be found in this life whether waking or sleeping … or dreaming.

***   
The stories all agree. The Fae love art and music: the things that make humanity human. They can learn to play, but without humans they cannot create. They steal humans to create for them, to teach them. No one will draw more perfectly or sing more beautifully than one of the Fae, but there was no heart or soul. The art was two dimensional, the poetry doggerel, and the music lively, but lifeless. Humans are necessary in the courts of the Fae.

Sometimes they find them young, and leave one of their own in the child’s place – a changeling. Sometimes adults wander into their realm following an elusive path or distant music. Sometimes they’re chased into faerie by an outside force. And, occasionally, faerie finds someone at the cusp of their transformation, someone who needs to step out of time to find the right moment, the right path, the right joy.

***   
Blaine Anderson was born in 1984, the oldest son of Philip and Darlyn Anderson. Two years later, their son Cooper joined the family. For fourteen years, they were whole. Then, one day, Blaine told his family he liked other boys, told them that he’d invited another boy to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Cooper still remembers being scared of all the yelling in the house.

Blaine met their objections with strength. His mother drove him to Jack’s house and then to the dance. She told him to meet her at the same spot on the dot of ten p.m. When she arrived at ten past, her son was bleeding on the ground, Jack beside him. She ran into the school and begged a chaperone to call 911 before going out to sit beside Blaine who looked smaller than young Cooper, trying to listen for a distant siren coming to help.

She didn’t notice the fox across the street watching them with a nearly human intelligence. She certainly didn’t hear him say to the frog beside him, “He’s beautiful, David. He has so much music.”

The frog said, “We couldn’t keep him long. Fifteen years? Maybe less?”

“But we’d have his music. We can find him the right mate.”

“Wes, he’ll wither into nothing if we keep him too long. Do you understand that?”

The fox closed its eyes. “I do. Fifteen years and we’ll free him whether or not his mate exists.”

The frog nodded. “I see hope for us, for him, for a mate by then. He’ll age slowly. He won’t realize. Three years older, maybe less, by the time he leaves us.”

The fox yipped. And the frog heard, “He could choose not to leave.”

***   
Dalton Academy can’t be found in any listing of schools in Ohio, nor on any website. 

Philip Anderson didn’t remember when or where or from whom he got the card about an academically challenging curriculum and a zero-tolerance for violence policy, but it sounded perfect for his oldest son. He called the number and arranged an appointment for the next week, after Blaine got out of the hospital. 

He missed the turnoff to the school the first time. It was hidden behind a gate and too much vegetation, his wife said. Blaine shook his head in disbelief and told them that the gate was wide open, and the sign was too big to miss.

Two teenagers met them in the parking lot, Wes who was a senior and David who was a junior. They took Blaine through the school, showing him the dorms and the common rooms before bringing him back to the headmaster’s office. Mister Oberon nodded to Wes and David. 

He said, “Would you care for cookies or tea, Blaine? Mister and Mrs. Anderson?”

The older Andersons said no, but Blaine took a cookie and smiled. “Spice cookies? It’s not a gingersnap.”

“Speculoos,” David said. 

“An old school tradition,” Wes said at nearly the same time.

“Do you want to stay?” the Headmaster asked.

Blaine turned to his parents who seemed confused, “They have great music extracurriculars. They might find a way to let me sing.”

David said, “There’s the Warblers. Our singing group.”

Wes said, “It’s a glee club.”

“Acapella,” David added.

Blaine grinned and asked his parents if they could afford the tuition. They nodded, and Blaine stayed behind when his parents went back home. That night he sang lead with the Warblers for the first time introducing them to the Spice Girls and the song _Too Much_. 

Wes said, “You see, he needed us. He’s happy here. There will be so much music.”

David smiled and said, “Years will pass like months to us. He will leave us.”

“I know.” Wes lifted his voice in harmony with Blaine’s, and David sang counterpoint.

For Wes and for David, it was just enough.  
***   
Blaine throve at Dalton. Jeff and Nick joined the Warblers, and Thad and Trent had always been there, too. He took so many classes and learned so much, even if all he could really remember when he went to bed each evening was Warblers rehearsals and the music they’d made. He didn’t have too many clear memories of his teachers, other than Mister Goodfellow who taught English and seemed to really like Spenser, Shakespeare, and Kipling.

Dalton was home, and he was a rock star within it. 

Sometime in his second year, he asked Wes and David if they were going to compete in acapella competitions. 

David said, “Show choir. We’ll compete as a show choir.”

Wes looked at his friend shrewdly and said, “The council decided it would give us more of a chance to sing the type of songs we like best.”

After Blaine left, Wes turned to David and said, “You’ve seen something?”

“In the between world, there’s a boy who’s trying to find himself, his totem. He’s just beginning and hasn’t realized his power yet.”

“He’ll take Blaine away? Has fifteen years passed?”

“Twelve, but by the time we’re ready to compete, by the time the boy is ready for Blaine it will be thirteen.”

“A sad number, in some ways.”

David said, “A number of trial and triumph.”

“And Dalton will disappear,” Wes said mournfully.

“Perhaps. It depends on Blaine and this boy and…” David went silent.

“Sacrifice. There’s always sacrifice.”

David rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re sharp as a fox.”

***   
At night, Kurt dreamed he was elsewhere. It looked like Ohio via Lewis Carroll with an Emerald City called New York thrown into the mix. Sometimes, he was an Alice trying to cope. Sometimes, he was a White Rabbit. Once, he’d been a toad – or was it Mr. Toad? the dreams blurred – and his legs wouldn’t work right in rehearsal the next day. The landscape evolved, too, the houses and landmarks of his town giving way to the bare bones of earth underneath – the rhythm of the land with its seasons, with growth and renewal, grew more important in his wanderings through his dreams.

***   
Puberty had generally been kind to Kurt, maybe to make up for all the ways the people around him were unkind. He’d had a few, literal, growing pains with his most recent spurt of height, but none of them matched the pain of daily locker slams and dumpster tosses. None of them hurt like the names and the slushies.

He worked hard at his classes, begging for challenge. He worked in the glee club, too, fitting his voice into any arrangement Mr. Schue provided, no matter the part that was needed. And he worked at his friendships, but still didn’t have anyone who saw him, not a teacher, not Mr. Schue, and not his friends.

His father had turned into his rock, but his Dad had been so nearly taken from him by too many Slim Jim breakfasts, that Kurt didn’t feel right sharing his loneliness. He was strong. He could be strong for his father. He could be a man, hide behind a façade of strength, never show his pain.

Then one day, it was too much. Puck said, “Dude why don’t you put some rat poison in the old folks jello or go visit the Garglers.”

Kurt stalked out of the room and went home to cry. While he was there, he checked out Dalton Academy online. If he’d looked closely, he might have seen how new the website was. Instead, he saw a place that said no bullying was tolerated, where handsome young men wandered around lush gardens and gorgeous rooms in a classic old house.

He found a dark pants, a blue blazer, and a red tie. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe it would be enough camouflage. 

***   
The gate was open, easily found, when Kurt got to Dalton. The drive should have taken hours, but seemed to be over nearly before it began.

Kurt’s gaze took in the classic skylight dome over the spiral staircase. It led him to a boy with a pocket watch in his hand and a welcoming smile. He was barely able to stammer out an introduction before the boy took his hand and hurried him through a hall with pastoral murals into a room with warm wood panels. The Warblers sang, and it felt like it was only for him.

Thad walked him out afterward and got his phone number. Kurt was home by dinner time, even though he’d called his father to say he’d be late.

That night, he got a phone call from another Warbler, David, inviting him for coffee after school the next day. 

***   
Wes looked at David and glanced at Kurt as they left the table. “Is he the one?”

Kurt had obviously steeled himself for the meeting by dressing uniquely. This time, he made no effort to fit in. 

David followed his eye and nodded. “He really is endearing. He’ll be good to, for, and with Blaine. I just wish…”

Wes looked at his friend shrewdly. “Wish what?”

“Neither of them has found who they are yet. What their clan is?”

“Blaine’s still …”

“He dreams, not as much as Kurt. I’ve spoken to Kurt in the Otherworld. He never gave me his name which means he’s smart. He’s trying to find his totem, his role, though he doesn’t know it. Blaine comes in and flies on Jeff’s back or snuggles in Nick’s den. He recognizes them, but… he’s not searching.” David thought for a moment. “That’s not right. He’s searching for love, basks in friendships, but he’s not trying to find _himself_ inside the Otherworld, like he doesn’t understand that it’s just as real as the world outside our walls. And I worry about what that might mean when he leaves us.”

“He could choose to stay,” Wes said.

David patted his shoulder and looked at Kurt crying and Blaine sharing his anger. “He won’t.”

***   
Kurt went home again. He barely remembered the journey because his senses were humming with Blaine – and really good coffee.

“Courage.” Said the text message.

Kurt walked in the front door of his prison every day without showing signs of reluctance, but it comforted him that someone else knew it took courage. Several more times, just one word rang his phone, and, each time, Kurt smiled at the reminder.

When Karofsky struck, Kurt breathed in the word and lashed back verbally. And he’d really never known what courage meant, known what fear was until a kiss had been stolen from him. A kiss that was supposed to belong to innocence and new awakenings had become a threat.

That night, in his dreams, the vegetation grew rank and threatening, vines twining. He found himself in the body of a snake, panicking at missing his limbs, flailing, and hearing derisive laughter. The next night he was pursued and could only crawl slowly with a house on his back. He woke distressed and went to school where he was derided and hurt and ignored.

Blaine became his lifeline.

***   
“Blaine ate something called tater tots with Kurt and his friend,” Trent said.

Wes said, “Thank you,” and turned to David. “He’s eating out there.”

“Yes. Kurt will lead him safely away from us.”

Trent said, “I like Kurt. I heard him sing a few bars, and he’s special.”

David smiled at him. “Anyone who’s right for Blaine would be.”

“Can we protect him?” Trent asked.

Wes said, “Blaine?”

“No, Kurt. He’s in so much pain.”

David nodded. “When I dream, I feel him in parts of the Otherworld that are dangerous to one who’s young and doesn’t know the strength of his totem.”

Wes said, “I’ll talk to Mister Oberon. Kurt could come here. Then Blaine would stay, too.”

“Dream with me tonight?” David asked.

“Yes. I need to know more about Kurt.”

***   
There was a fox at the edge of the clearing watching him. His back foot thumped at the ground, and he was sure his ears looked ridiculous, but he refused to run, refused to be prey. There was a deer peering through the leaves not far away, and Kurt was sure he felt a third presence, a familiar one, somewhere near by.

The fox spoke, and Kurt knew the voice even if he couldn’t quite place it. “That is definitely not your totem. It’s not that rabbits can’t be brave, but it’s not your type of bravery.”

“Are you going to eat me?” Kurt asked.

The fox barked and it sounded like a laugh. “I’m sure you’d be tender and delicious, but the others would be so disappointed in me.” The fox came closer and touched Kurt in his rabbit form with his nose. “Wake up, now. You’ll feel better, soon.”

When Kurt left them, the deer spoke in Trent’s voice. “He’s beautiful. I hope he’ll stay forever.”

***   
Kurt was thrilled to be planning the wedding. Carole trusted him, which was great, but it was also one more pressure on top of so many others. He wasn’t sleeping well, and his dreams felt too vivid when he did manage to sleep.

Lack of sleep was probably why he didn’t notice Karofsky behind him. Lack of sleep was probably why his taking the cake topper felt so filthy. Lack of sleep was probably why he felt something break inside.

His father saw one gesture and flew out to protect his fledgling. Kurt was terrified that the effort would hurt his father, but then there was the meeting and Karofsky was expelled, and the wedding, and …

Karofsky’s expulsion was overturned, and Kurt entered Dalton.

***   
Dalton was odd. Kurt knew there were classes because he did homework and for the first time in years felt like he was being challenged intellectually, but he didn’t remember seeing any teachers, and the only one whose name he could remember was Mister Goodfellow. There were other students, too. Ones who’d reach out to high or low five him, but if they weren’t in the Warblers they seemed to just be background.

Kurt didn’t seem to talk to anyone back at home much either, and that disturbed him. He missed his Dad the most, but he would have expected to hear more from Mercedes and Finn or even Rachel than he actually had.

The dreams were still with him. There were so many different animals that he seemed to inhabit. He’d almost liked being a llama. It felt safer to dream now, even as odd as they were. He’d see other animals: a deer most often, but there was a frog that seemed friendly, and he’d run into that fox a few times, too. There was a hummingbird that always seemed to come to find him for at least a few minutes and laugh at his ungainliness in his form until a prairie dog yipped in the distance and the bird went speeding off.

***   
Things began to change when Mister Schue came to visit. Or perhaps, it was singing that song with Blaine. Kurt remembered more when he went home and talked to his family at night. The trip to school every day still seemed shorter than it should. (David explained to Wes that he was actually traveling through the other world. Thad had arranged it.) And Pavarotti was a great comfort.

Kurt included Blaine in things outside Dalton whenever he could. It didn’t matter whether it was a zombie football game – and really, who played football in January? – or a small (disastrous) party at Rachel’s. Blaine was welcomed and recognized as part of Kurt’s life. 

There were still absurdities that he didn’t comprehend, like singing in the Gap, or why no one minded their homework being flung around, but Kurt just accepted that it was part of Dalton, part of being Blaine’s friend, part of being a Warbler.

***   
This night, Kurt entered the dream world and took a deep breath. He stretched out an arm, no, a wing, and saw the beautiful black and white feathers. He preened a little and leapt up to feel the wind support him. He beat his wings twice, and went higher than he’d ever been looking down at a lush world. Pavarotti was beside him, singing as they flew, telling him how to shift and let the wind do the work for him. In the distance, Kurt heard faint laughter, but this time it was joy, not derision. It sounded like his father.

Something winked out below him, and Kurt adjusted his wings to go see it. He recognized himself in a bit of mirror and picked it up in his beak to take to his nest. He was home. This was his body; this was himself.

***   
Kurt entered the Warbler’s rehearsal out of uniform, handed them a backing tape, and sang.

The others joined in as Wes and David shared a look. Kurt had found his totem; this was his announcement that his wings were no longer broken and he could fly.

After Kurt left, Wes said, “Blaine still hasn’t found himself.”

David answered, “He found himself in Kurt’s song for a moment. We’ll know in a few days whether …”

Wes smiled, a little ruefully. “At least I didn’t have to break my gavel over Blaine’s head.”

David shrugged. “You may have to, yet.”  
***   
They were all happy when Blaine asked to sing a duet with Kurt.

On the bus back from Regionals, Wes said to David, “I thought it was going to be better now, for Blaine and his mate.”

“It _is_ better than it was when he came to us. And having them out in the world will make it better still.”

“He’s leaving soon, isn’t he?” Wes asked.

“Kurt first. But yes, our time will end and Dalton will fade into mists.”

***   
The night that Kurt returned to McKinley, Blaine cried himself to sleep and dreamed. Usually, in this place, he ran into birds and animals that treated him like friends, like he was special. Tonight, he couldn’t find any of them except a very curious magpie.

The magpie said, “I thought I was the only one.”

Blaine said, “The only what?”

“Magpie.” He said, “Wait here.” A moment later he landed with piece of mirror.

Blaine said, “Ooh, shiny.” Reflected back were his own green eyes set in black feathers with white banding. He turned this way and that admiring himself. “My feathers are darker, but I like your pretty blue eyes, Kurt.”

“You recognized me!”

“But you haven’t said my name yet.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You’re Blaine.” He thought for a moment. “Want to help me take my mirror back to my nest? I have all sorts of shiny things.”

They took off together and flew into the branches.

A fox, a deer, and a frog watched them.

Wes said, “One for sorrow…”

“And two for joy,” Trent finished.

David said, “It will take time before Blaine’s entirely ready to leave, you know.”

Wes said, “I know. Dalton will stay open even after he leaves. I’m going to go out into the world, too.”

Trent shook his head. “Can _you_ come back if you leave?”

“I don’t know, but I know Dalton has to exist for Blaine and Kurt to hold onto each other.”

David said, “Sacrifice. Don’t leave before Blaine, please.”

The fox yipped. “We can still wander here.”

Up in the tree, they could hear the magpies squabbling about the best way to build their nest.


End file.
